Wow – what a few days. Since I first let the world know that dad was sick I’ve been inundated with messages, notes, texts, emails, calls and visits of support. All the hugs, both real and virtual have all felt amazing. Thanks, thanks to all of you who reached out, all those of you who thought good thoughts and gave your loved ones an extra squeeze – it’s been a humbling experience. Even those of you who just thought good thoughts – it all helps in a cosmic sorta way (don’t worry that’s as close to hippydom I’m going to go, no need to start vomiting up tie-dye). Dad is in good spirits, I just talked to him on the phone. He’s watching the hockey game and relaxing in his hospital bed, getting ready for tomorrow. We found out that his operation is on for tomorrow, we’re not sure what time as they are going to slot him in someplace when they have an opening. It’s kinda like when you turn up to the golf course without a tee-time; you get what you get.

So how do I feel? Well to be honest if I could fast-forward to tomorrow and get the surgery done and dusted that would be just perfect. A good friend sent me a thoughtful note yesterday that so rightly pointed out that the waiting and the time when your head is filled with ‘what if…’ is the worst part of all of this. This same wise friend reminded me that there is an ocean of possible outcomes between best and worst case scenario. It’s easy just to focus on the worst possible outcome – it takes discipline, a discipline I’m getting a crash course in, to remind oneself that with all the possible outcomes available, the worst one isn’t a given.

This whole experience that started for me, what 48hrs ago, has been enlightening on so many levels. Feeling the love and support from my friends and family has been the warm campfire that’s kept me filled with love and hope. What has really struck me is just the sheer number of people who have said to me that they know exactly how I feel, because they’ve been there. They’ve been there with their fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, wives, husbands and friends. It’s been said so many times before, but The Big C truly does touch us all in one way or another. More than touch, it connects us all. That connection through resilience and survival has been an endless well of strength.

I’ll get a call tomorrow sometime saying that dad is headed into surgery – the whole process will take a couple of hours and after that we’ll know what is going to happen next. Those few hours will be tough, but tough is what we do around here. Oh and I learned something interesting the other night – when you are trying to get your mind off of your dad being ill playing hockey, the game that he taught you, coached you in for a decade and most closely associate with doesn’t really work. Take that as a tip for young players.

Right-o – next time you read this blog there will be news to report. Thanks again for all the support – I’ve really appreciated it and Mom and Dad sure have too. Until then – take care and be well.

Me and Dad circa '83

It’s a phrase I’ve used a million times. I’ve spun it out more times than I can count over the years. But it wasn’t until today that I fully got it. ‘It hit me like a ton of bricks’ finally made sense just before lunch when my Dad phoned me up and said three simple words, “I Have Cancer.”

As he was saying it over the phone the words slowed down and every syllable crept out like morning fog. Life suddenly moved into slow motion and the physics of time and space jumped out of sync like a skipping record. “There is a growth in my bowel and it’s cancer.” I could hear him saying it, but my heart was pounding so loud it almost drowned him out, the room started to spin and I had to grab the desk with my hand to stop it from tuning. What do you say to that? How do you respond to a bombshell like that one? After I got off the phone I just stared out the window for a long while, there was a bird in the tree, chirping and going about its day, oblivious to me just a few feet away hidden behind the glass. Soph came home from work and we held each other for a long time, that helped, so did talking to my mom for a long time and talking the whole thing through with dad too.

Even though this worst case scenario hit me like a meteor, the journey to the phone call today started a few months ago. When mom and dad were here in Queenstown dad was having troubles with his stomach. Spicy food wasn’t agreeing with him and he was feeling really bloated much of the time. By the time their NZ holiday had finished dad knew that shortly after touching down in Calgary he was going to head to the doctor. His doctor at first thought the issue was a reaction to some of the medication he was on and switched him to something else. That seemed to solve the problem and everything seemed to be settled. Then a few weeks later the chronic indigestion came back and this time it was worse – now dad was vomiting after a big meal and suffering with near constant stomach cramps. An MRI last week showed something in his abdomen, but we were relieved to hear that they didn’t think it was cancer scare – it didn’t look like it was in the right place – speculation was it could be colitis or something like that. The next step was a colonoscopy to have a look and see – that was today.

The results weren’t what we expected and the opposite of what we’d hoped for. Okay, here is the good news – when they did the MRI a few days ago they didn’t see anything else anywhere else. The mass could have caused a complete bowel obstruction and they caught it in time before it did. Phew. Here is what the plan is – on Friday Dad goes into surgery where they are going to remove the mass and look for additional cancer. The doctors are confident that this is all of it (but they won’t know for sure till they get in there). If that hope is correct then that should be the end of the story – cancer gone. If they see anything else around or if the subsequent blood work finds anything then we will have more tough stuff to deal with. Overall everyone is upbeat that the situation is in control. What other choice do we have?

Dad is doing okay, he’s not in any discomfort and is actually relieved to finally know what has been making him uncomfortable for so long. He’s pissed off that he’s going to miss a golf tournament next week and thinks the hospital is boring so has asked my mom to charge up the Kobo for lots of reading! He’s in good spirits, his voice is strong and he’s not letting this get him down. Mom is doing alright too – she’s been here before with her dad and mom and just recently her brother too. They both know that we won’t really know where we stand until the surgery on Friday and after that we’ll reassess – no point worrying about stuff we can’t change.

How am I doing? I’m okay. I feel a million miles from home and hearing about all this from NZ while mom and dad are in Canada was hard, really hard. I’m pretty numb and not really sure how I feel. Every time I head down a different avenue of the situation my emotions turn too. Shock, sadness, fear, hope, anger, humour, appreciation, pride, love and longing have all made an appearance in the last 5hrs. In the next few days I’m sure I’ll go around all of those again a few times, turning like a roulette wheel.

So what now? Well for now I’m staying in NZ. I did think hard about heading back to Canada (and I still might), but for now, following the wishes of my folks I’m going to stay put. I went for a swim this afternoon and that felt good – trying not to drown is always a good distraction. Though at one point I burst out laughing when I realized the opening of ‘The Big C’ all takes place in a pool. I’m going to go play some hockey tonight, that’ll help too. Sitting in the hot tub with Sophie she asked me what I wanted to do – I told her I needed to write. Writing this, getting these feelings out on paper means that I can keep going. It doesn’t mean I’m any less afraid or that the ‘atomic-so-not-fucking-fairness’ of this whole situation stops punching me in the stomach all the time. It gets it out though and now that it’s out there, it’s out from the inside of me. I didn’t write this for sympathy or some self serving thing. This is just life, it’s how it goes sometimes. Writing is a job for me, but at its heart it’s emotional catharsis. If it wasn’t for the opportunity to do this, I’d be even more of a mess than I already am.

I’ll write more soon – until then do me a favour; hug the people you love. For me and for the people I love.

Scott.

I like making things. Actually I really like making things. What really excites me isn’t necessarily a blank canvas or a fresh sheet of plywood – I’m a big fan of re-purposing materials or objects into something else. I’ve turned an egg timer into a panning time-lapse rig for a GoPro Camera, I made an old retro suitcase into a Pelican Case for my camera gear and in my latest project I turned an old hardcover book into a case and stand for my iPad. When I first posted some pics of the case on Facebook there was a great response and it seemed to really strike a chord with folks. Seeing as it was such a fun project and iPads are everywhere these days I thought I might explain how I did it, in case people want to make one of their own – keep in mind this will work for a Kindle or a Kobo – an electronic book hidden in a book – or for an iPhone (I’ve done that previously). So here we go!

Materials:

iPad

Old Hardcover book (must be hardcover a soft cover won’t work with my described method)

White glue (craft glue)

Plastic cup

Paint brush

Water

Pencil

Metal ruler

Exacto style knife or box cutter / razor blade knife

Thin chopping board

Elastic band (decorative one for the outside of the finished book) essential if you want to make it a stand too.

Cloth (hockey) tape (book binding tape is best, but who has that?)

Wax paper

Velcro dots

Metal grommets (x2)

Power drill

Hammer

Glue gun

Needle/thread

How to do it:

Step 1 – find an old book that will fit the iPad. Try used books stores or garage sales. Dimensionally there must be enough room to accommodate the iPad with at least 1cm of page left on all sides. Thickness it must be at least ½ cm thicker than the iPad (just the pages, not including the cover)

Step 2 – Prepare the book – slide a sheet of wax paper between the cover and the first page so there is a barrier between the pages and the cover. This is so when you glue the pages together you won’t accidently glue the cover shut too. Do this for the back page too. Fold the paper over the cover so that it is protected from glue whale you are making the case.

Step 3 – mix the glue mixture – in the cup mix up 60% glue 40% water (roughly) – you won’t need too much and can always make up more as you go. The reason you thin down the glue is so that it penetrates the pages better and the finished book doesn’t have glue residue on it.

Step 4 – glue the book – with the paintbrush glue the outside edge of the pages. Liberally apply the glue with the book closed. When you’ve painted the edge of the pages with a good coat move quickly to the pressing stage.

Step 5 – dry and press – place the book on a hard flat surface and put a heavy weight on top of it so that the glue dries with the pages as compressed as possible. I put a large wooden chopping board on it and put a case of beer on the board.

Step 6 – let dry – it will take about an hour for the pages to dry – leave it for a couple or 3 if you can.

Step 7 – trace your iPad – on the first page of the book trace the iPad for where you want the hole in the book to be. Measure using the ruler so it is even – this step is really important; a screw up here will ruin the project.

Step 8 – Cut the pages out – Using the metal ruler so the lines are straight us the exacto knife to cut the pages out. This step takes ages and is the most time consuming part of the project by far. Try not to get distracted, it’s really easy to cut yourself or cut too far and ruin the book. As you get closer to the end of the book slide the thin chopping board between the pages and the back cover, so you don’t cut all the way through.

Step 9 – check – make sure the hole is deep enough to accommodate the iPad and the front cover isn’t pushing on it. You want the hole to be deep enough that the iPad is secured at the back (with the Velcro dots) and floating behind the cover – this will protect the screen. When you are happy with the depth and the size it’s time to finish it up.

Step 10 – Attach the strap – Drill two holes about 2 inches apart on the back cover – 1 inch from the edge in the middle of the book. This is where you will secure the strap. Put the grommets on the holes and secure them with the hammer (not essential but looks a million times better) and feed the strap into the hole. On the inside sew the strap together and secure to the back cover with hot glue.

Step 11 – finish up – with the tape reinforce the binding on the inside of the book, both front and back cover. Paint the glue mixture on the inside of the pages in the hole and into any spots you missed on the outside. Hot glue the back cover to the end of the pages.

Step 12 – Final Dry – put the book back in the drying press with the weights on it again. Let dry for at least 3hrs – overnight is best. And presto it’s done! Use a Velcro dot or two to hold the iPad in the book if you plan to use it as a stand (you don’t want it to accidently slip out). To use it as a stand the font cover folds back over itself to make an A-Frame. The elastic band hooks around one corner of the cover and holds it in place. You could come up with a more complicated way of doing things, but this felt simpler and cleaner to me. Other ideas would be to cover the inside front cover with a soft material that cleans and protects the screen. You could also put a magnet into the front cover so it turns the iPad on and off when the cover is closed.

Good luck and happy making!

Last week was the Queenstown Bike Festival and it was chock-o-block with killer events. There was the awesome and inspiring slopestyle, the super fun Tour De Wakatipu and the thrills and spills of the Dirtmasters Downhill. Cles from Jagged Melon Productions and I decided to put a little edit together for The Dirtmasters DH and here it is. It was a great day on the hill and a good time was had by all – even for Mike who after his pre-race interview for us managed to eat it HARD at the top of the steps and keep going to the end! Onya brother – that’s the commitment to the cause we like to see! Sit back and enjoy our Easter Sunday condensed into 2:52. Oh and a big thanks to my old old friend Jeff Munt for providing some awesome music for us!

Dirt Masters Downhill Mountain Bike Race, Queenstown, New Zealand, 2012 from Jagged Melon Productions on Vimeo.

I’ve dropped a few hints about this one before; ‘Liar’ is a short film I’m making with a cool band of collaborators like Jagged Melon Productions and some awesome local actors here in QT. We’re still in production, but we’ve just finished a early sneak preview – take a look and watch this space!

LIAR – the Trailer from Jagged Melon Productions on Vimeo.

You can be anything you want when no one knows who you are… So what lies would you spool in order to get your kicks?

A Short Film by Scott Kennedy and Clees Lambridis

Coming Soon

Greetings blogosphere, it’s been a while but with good reason – I’ve had stacks on the bubble and the pot just boiled. Lots of good stuff to pass on and some exciting projects in the pipeline. It’s been a month filled with photo projects, video projects and lots of words in print.

Let’s start with photos. Those of you who are in the Queenstown area will have undoubtedly have heard about the proposed tunnel connecting Glenorchy and Milford Sound. It’s a hot-button issue that definitely has me revved up in a big bad way – why they’d even consider auguring a out a big great dirty hole in the middle of a World Heritage site is beyond me. It’s a complex issue filled with politics, public safety, environmental impact, passion and apathy. When the issue reared its head about two months ago there was a huge gasp of… nothing. There seemed to be an apathetic fog that descended upon everyone in Queenstown and the desire to stay out of everyone else’s business floated to the fore.

More than the tunnel (which may not even happen unless it can clear some very steep environment court hurdles) the aspect that really concerned me was the outward lack of concern. It was at that moment that I knew that I really wanted to do something to try and spur people into felling anything. It all came to a head at Toby Eglesfield’s art opening when Toby and myself got talking about how an artistic response to the whole issue would be the best thing to do. An exhibition that addressed the issue and let the viewers make up their own minds. Ten minutes later Tim Buckley the owner of The Front Room Gallery had heard about the idea and said, ‘let’s do it!’.

Six weeks later we were in the same spot at the opening of the show – Tunnel Vision: An Artistic Response. The idea morphed into a group show and by opening night we had eight local artists on board and I had the privilege of curating my first group show. It was a real pleasure to put together and the art that came from it was just fantastic. The show runs until the end of April at The Front Room in Queenstown – be sure to drop by and have a look. In the meantime here are a couple of videos that fill in a few of the details.

All good things come to an end.

When my alarm rang at 5.30 last Friday the first thought that hit me was, ‘this is it – last one.’ As I ate my usual pre-training breakfast (banana and a glass of juice) my mind kept pin-balling between the idea that they’d go easy on us because it’s the last day or smash us into oblivion, because it’s the last day.

The session started like they usually do – a run around the oval to get warm and try and wake up. As the season has progressed so has the hour of dawn. In the first few weeks we got to watch the sun rise over the basin and be buoyed on by the light of dawn. for the last week of the program it was cold and dark the whole time. The foreboding ambiance added to the whole primal feel of things. It was supposed to be hard, it was supposed to hurt, darkness and seeing breath hang in the air just seemed like a perverse requirement too.

After our lap it was time to get down to business, one last time. Any ideas that this last session was going to be a push-over were blown out of the water once we saw the set-up. Our last rounds of the circuit were going to be a greatest hits package – bigger weights, more reps, less resting. Kettle bells that would have broken us on day one were tossed about like toys, tractor tires stolen off some sort of monster truck are flipped with reckless abandon and press-ups are snapped out like some sort of masochistic cyborg.

After one punishing round of the circuit we all expected a 2min break before hitting it again. Not today. Before we could even catch our breath we all lined up along the big ropes attached to another massive tire. We grabbed the rope and ran a lap dragging the tire in our wake.

By the time we got back to the start my lungs were on fire and my legs were made of stone. 30seconds later we were back at the circuit – one last go, the intensity shot up. We could all tell that our time was running short, it was the darkest hour, when you slip into the internal and the effort comes not from your muscles but from your very soul. It went quiet, it’s always quiet, but on this last day we all were digging as deep as we could, not to compete, not to impress but to post a high water mark on our own internal ledgers.

As the circuit finished we thought that a break finally might be at hand – but not today. Straight into the final push we lined up at the top of the bank. On go we sprint to the bottom of one side, back over the top and down the other side and back to the top, smash 5 press-ups and count one lap. The prescription was 10 laps and added onto what we’d already done it felt like the lash.

By the time I’d finished my 10th lap I was spent. It was over – we’d worked at 100% for 50min solid, there was nothing left in the tank and I felt great, in an awful sort of way.

So having survived and come through the other side, what do I think about this whole Spartan Training idea? The tale of the tape tells a big story – my body changed in all the ways I wanted it to: gained a few cm’s on my chest, my arms stayed the same diameter but are sculpted rather than rounded, my quads grew by a couple of cm’s, straight around my belly lost a few cm’s and amazingly my hips (at trouser waist band height) lost a surprising 11cm. I wasn’t setting out to change my dimensions, I just wanted to get stronger and fitter – and I’m definitely all of those things.

So would I do it again? In a heartbeat. Sure getting up at 5.30am sucks and it was cold and largely uncomfortable the whole time. The training was hard and I was introduced to more discipline than I’d experienced in my adult life, a saw people puke and cry and overcome what they thought they could do and discover a taste of what they are capable of.

Maybe it’s not for everyone – it’s a hard environment where there isn’t room for slack or a lack of commitment. If you’re willing to lay yourself bare and give everything you have, show yourself at your most vulnerable and never, never give up this strange cult-like environment could be the answer to all of your training questions.

On the last day, when it was as hard as it ever was, I looked over and saw a group of people who’d bonded over sweat and will forever be linked by our shared experience in physical punishment, self discovery and athletic re-birth I finally answered the question I posed from the very start…

Yes, this is Sparta.

20 seconds can feel like a lifetime.

Three weeks down, two to go. This whole business is supposed to be getting easier – right? Not really. Just when I feel like I’m getting a handle on things the ante goes up and it’s back to the bottom of the steps.

Reality is, we are all getting way fitter and all the exercises have to be amped up to keep the throttle pinned. The weights grow every day and the intensity seems to inch up every morning too.

Last week we were introduced to the ‘big’ tire. Since day one we’ve been flipping tractor tires end over end, last Wednesday we discovered that there is always one bigger. The ‘big’ tire clocks in at a stout 120kg and feels like you are flipping over a car. Amazingly today that tire that almost killed me to flip last week was a hell of a lot easier – for a brief moment I almost felt joy.

Today we did our familiar circuit that I’ve described before. We charged through it three times before waiting to see what was next. Expecting laps with the rope above our heads or something worse the crew was visually tense with anticipation. Steve surprised us when he told us to come into the gymnasium for the rest of the session.

Once inside, once I heard what we had to do, I kinda wished we’d stayed outside and went for a jog with the SS Tug Rope. The plan was diabolical and terrifying, especially after 45min of 100% output.

20seconds of exercise, followed by 10seconds of rest and repeat. We’d do 8 sets of each exercise before switching to the next one – all at 100% effort.

Exercise 1 – deep squats. The first few sets were okay – they were tough but not too painful. By the 7th set my quads felt like they were going to explode, it felt like my thigh muscle was bunched into a tennis ball in each pants pocket.

Exercise 2 – press-ups. The first set felt nice; at least I wasn’t doing squats. In 20 seconds if you go fast you can do around 20 press-ups. That’s in the neighborhood of 160 press-ups in two and a half minutes of work. Well there certainly weren’t 160 reps from me. By the 8th set I was lucky to get 5 in. it felt like my arms were made out of lead and not in a good way.

Exercise 3 – crunches. All I could do was drape my dead arms across my chest and curl for all I was worth. Again the first few sets were okay but by the time we got above five I was in a world of hurt.

Exercise 4 – burpies. Just to finish everything off it’s time for the one exercise that thrashes everything all at once. 20 seconds can feel like a lifetime, by the end it felt like I’d lived one.

Puddles of sweat pooled around our smashed bodies. Those last 15 minutes might have been the hardest quarter hour of my athletic life. As easy as it would have been to lie in the fetal position and wallow in the suffering we just fought through I felt oddly uplifted. Strange how all this madness actually feels ‘good’.

I guess it doesn’t have to be fun, to be fun.

Some guy called Lance does a kettle-bell swing

“It was all starting to make sense, in a Tyler kind of way.” – Fight Club

Week three of Spartan training is here and at zero-dark-thirty there we were outside in the dark once again, ready to work like we’ve never worked before. In the growing light I looked down the line and it felt like there were fewer of us. I think a few folks decided to pull the pin and quietly bow out. Not surprising really, this sort of thing isn’t for the faint hearted. Our ramshackle group was one part motivated, two parts stubborn. Up until today the training has felt like it was some sort of full-frontal assault of our fitness walls. One thing after another, more diabolical than the last with no rhyme or reason. Today amongst the hurt, reps and sweat it all started to make sense.

Right out of the gate Steve told us that the warm-up was over – it’s about to get much harder. After our usual warm-up consisting of a jog, lunges, squats and some stretches it was time to hit the circuit. The plan for today was to run through the circuit three times – nothing else was on the books – today was all about maximum effort, all the time. For the circuit we each teamed up with a partner and went from station to station exercising for 1minute per station, with a 10second rest between stations that included getting to the next station. The stations consisted of: Press-ups, squat with a medicine ball then throw it as high as you can, kettle-bell squats, kettle-bell swings (swing the ball from between your legs to fully extended above your head), flip a tractor tire end over end, run up the bank with a 25kg sandbag on your shoulder, hit a tractor tire with a sledge hammer as many times as you can, bear crawl (hands and feet on the ground) up the bank, two-foot hop over mini hurdles up the bank, walk with 2 x 25kg weight plates up the bank, make waves in the Titanic ropes. That’s 11 stations, 1 min per station with a couple minutes rest in amongst – roughly 15min of suffering. 15 minutes doesn’t sound like a lot of time – but when you are smashing yourself as hard as you can the whole time, it feels like days. And that’s just one lap – after a 2min break we did it again and once more after that.

What’s starting to make sense is that you go 100% at one exercise and the next one you do is similar, but not quite the same. This means it kind of feels like a rest and you can give 100% all over again. I never would have expected that the hardest things I would do in this program weren’t some crazy never seen before exercise, the most challenging things are usually the simplest – press-ups on the third lap, swinging a kettle-bell the size of my head over my head when my arms were going to explode from doing lay-ups with a sand filled basketball.

It struck me once again today and is perhaps one of the most inspiring parts of this program – It doesn’t matter who you are, man or woman, weakling or ripped, trained or tired – we are all using the same weights. That means that the petite rail-thin runner girls in the class are monstering the same iron bowling balls above their heads as I’m nearly heaving my guts out to do. It puts things in perspective and is a timely reminder that toughness is a package that comes in all sizes. These ladies aren’t dragging at the back – they’re showing us lads how it should be done. Onwards and upwards – Wednesday is halfway and I’m starting to really feel the difference.

If you pay attention to social networks even at a passive level, there is a good chance that the name Kony has floated through your radar in the past few days. Kony, refers to Joseph Kony – a very bad dude from Uganda. He’s the perpetrator of all sorts of nasty stuff from forced prostitution to child soldiers. He’s one of the worlds most wanted men and until three days ago nobody knew who he was. Everything changed when this video from Invisible Children was posted just a few days ago.

In what is perhaps the best example in the history of the internet the power of social media has caused this video – all 30min of it, to be watched a staggering 40 million times – and that’s in the last three days. Just think about that number for a moment – 40 million. What has caused this video to go truly viral, I believe, is the overriding sense of hope and empowerment the film instils in the viewer. It’s hard to escape from the general sense of detachment that the youth of today feel about the political landscape. With an ever more ideological entrenching baby-boomer generation growing grey on the seats of power, if you are sub-thirty having a political voice is harder than ever. Enter social media. This video is a direct call to action – tangible steps that everyday people can do to affect positive change in the world. It’s shining a light onto a forgotten corner of the earth that doesn’t have oil or strategic value – this is an issue that truly is for the benefit of humanity.

There are cynics and critics. Some have been quick to paint the campaign with the brush of colonialism and the disempowerment of Africa as an autonomous region that can take of itself and it’s own problems. Critics have poked holes in Invisible Children and their business practices and other have rightly pointed out that the issue isn’t nearly as straightforward as the proposed solution describes. All of this is at least arguably true but in essence this doesn’t matter at all.

What matters and what has really changed the world is that the youth of America and the world have discovered that they have a voice – and now they know where they can use it. For all the good intentions of the occupy movement the goals were either so lofty or abstract that there was never going to be any real change come from it. You can’t set up a campsite and expect the entire world to abandon capitalism. That sort of misguided idealism is laughable. But this – this is a tangible, achievable goal. It’s an issue that has been brought into sharp focus from deep in the shadows. Sub-Saharan Africa isn’t on anybody’s radar. These big, human issues are problems that cost money, which you’ll never make back in trade or real estate. In the driest of terms, there isn’t any reason for a government to get involved, except for the most human of reasons – it’s the right thing to do. When was the last time they did something like that?

What this demonstrates in the most elegant and in your face of test cases is that the power of social change has become socialized and crowd-sourced. The big global issues that we face from here on out will not be brought to our attention from the channels of a government stacked with ulterior motives – the issues that we choose to support from today on will be brought to our attention from within our global community. And this campaign with its inevitable legion of supporters will be impossible for anyone – governments included, to ignore.

Stopping Kony will make the lives of literally millions of Africans better. But what will have perhaps have an even bigger impact over the long term is that the campaign itself has changed the world – and it only took one well made video, 40 million views and three days.